


Time at the Cottage

by Ali_JT



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I put m/m and Other because to me they have an asexual relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Other, Pre-Relationship, Secrets, and we know they're agender, but I use male pronouns because that's what they use in the show and in the book
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:22:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ali_JT/pseuds/Ali_JT
Summary: Anathema Device asks Aziraphale and Crowley to watch Jasmine Cottage while she and Newton Pulsifer are away for their honeymoon. The angel and demon accept. During the reception of wedding, however, Aziraphale is stolen away by the Hosts of Heaven and is stripped of his celestial power. They don't even just make him Fall (Heaven knows Hell doesn't want to deal with him), they make him basically human. Meanwhile, Crowley is visited by Beelzebub and given an ultimatum: "Kill the Principality Aziraphale or be eviscerated. You have one week."As they spend their time in Tadfield, Aziraphale tries his best to hide the fact he is mortal and Crowley tries to hide that he is speedily hurtling towards what he assumes to be a painful destruction.





	Time at the Cottage

The bookshop felt especially cozy that night. Candlelight softly reaching for all the shadows that hid behind books and furniture. Normally Crowley didn’t like how closed in it felt, but tonight the dark wood accents, the deep red curtains (that were currently shutting out the downpour that was beating Soho into submission), and the angel placing books meticulously on one of the innumerable shelves in the shop made everything seem enticing. He had his sunglasses off; clearly comfortable, he sat sprawled out on Aziraphale’s couch, wine glass in hand. He watched Aziraphale intently as the latter muttered to himself, bustling about the shop- re-shelving what customers had dared remove during the day.

Crowley let out a contented sigh. He would stay up, but Aziraphale could take ages arranging two books, let alone a whole stack. Not only that, but the wine was beginning to get to him. He briefly contemplated sobering up. Then he shook the thought off. There was no need. 

Delicately placing his wine glass on the side table he stretched out, using his arm as a pillow. After finding a thoroughly satisfying position, he let his eyes close and began to drift off to sleep. He almost made it, too, before Aziraphale’s voice broke the silence. 

“Crowley?”

“Hmmmnnn?” The demon stayed where he was, not wanting to sacrifice what could possibly be an exquisite nap. 

“Do you think we should get away from London for a bit?” Aziraphale's voice was closer, “Just the two of us. Have a little holiday? I say we deserve it after Non-Armageddon.”

“And do what, exactly? Go on a safari in Africa? Take a walk along the Great Wall? Rent a cottage in Tadfield? Hang around Adam and the gang?”

Crowley was being snarky, Aziraphale knew this, but he was still glad for the accidental segue. 

“I believe they call themselves The Them, but that doesn’t matter. It’s funny you should mention Tadfield,” he said, sitting primly on the couch next to Crowley’s knees, “Anathema called today.”

Crowley’s eyes fluttered open and his eyebrows creased together, “Who?”

“Crowley, come now. Anathema Device, the witch,” deafeated, he said, “Book Girl.”

“Oh, yea- yes, right, of course,” as he spoke, Crowley propped himself up on his elbows, “What did she want?”

“Well, you know she’s getting married next weekend. She was asking if we would watch her cottage while she and-” he didn’t want to try and remind Crowley of Newton, so he said, “-her fiancé are out of the country for their honeymoon.”

Crowley blinked at him, “Why us?”

“She knows we have nothing pressing happening right now,” Aziraphale answered. 

“No, Azira- no, I know that, I meant why both of us? Why not just you?”

This conversation was going nowhere Aziraphale liked and a well-disguised emotion passed behind his eyes, “Do you not want to go with me?” If Aziraphale was being honest, he was feeling a little bitten by Crowley's reaction.

It was only then that Crowley realized exactly what was going on and, with a touch of panic, he said, “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t have anything pressing in London right now. Or anywhere really. I could go to the moon if yo- if I wanted to. Tadfield. Cottage. Sounds good.” He nodded, “How long?”

Aziraphale tossed a shy smile to Crowley and stood, making his way back to his displaced books, “A month. They’re taking a road trip in America, I believe. Anathema was saying Newton has never been out of the country.” 

Crowley thought about having a confirmation as to who the Heaven Newton was, but 1. correctly guessed he was the fiancé and 2. correctly guessed that, like Anathema, he should already know who he was. The demon instead just nodded. 

“Alright, angel, sounds good.” Laying back down, he rolled so he was facing the back of the couch, snuggling into the crease. This time he was going to get that nap. Maybe he would dream, if he was lucky. A whole month? Away from London? With Aziraphale?

With Aziraphale.

Alone. Together. 

The more he thought about it the more he rather liked the concept. 

As his eyes slipped closed a small smile flickered over his lips. 

\--------

About an hour later Aziraphale was finished with his task. He stepped back, putting his fists on his hips he scanned the shelves, double-checking his work. It took a moment, but he did find a book out of place. He recalled earlier that day. A small child with spiky black hair had picked it up and then had put it back in the wrong space. Ghastly. Tutting, he pulled over his small step-ladder so he could reach the thorn in the rose bush, but a soft snore yanked his attention to Crowley. 

The demon was definitely no longer present to this world. 

Aziraphale watched him for a bit, curving a gaze from Crowley’s shoulder rising and falling in a steady rhythm, down to his waist, then to his feet. The angel caught himself. Crowley still had his shoes on and, while Aziraphale could let a lot of things go- shoes on the furniture? Never. 

He then snapped three times. The first took off Crowley’s shoes and set them neatly at the base of the couch. The second placed a down pillow underneath Crowley’s head. There was a pause between the second and the third snap in which Crowley turned over in his sleep, worrying Aziraphale that he had woken him. When the demon finally settled again, the angel snapped the third time, making a blanket appear in his hand.  
Aziraphale walked over to the couch, shaking out the blanket and placing it gently over him. Crowley shifted a bit more, burying his face deeper into the pillow, and Aziraphale sank down to his knees. He had never seen Crowley so at peace. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was almost positive this was the first time he had ever seen Crowley asleep, at all. 

He pulled back, pushing himself to his feet. Crowley would probably sleep until morning, which meant he had around 8 hours in which to entertain himself. He gave Crowley’s sleeping form one last look before turning away, removing the misplaced book, and disappearing into the back of the shop where he kept a large armchair. 

He tried to read, but kept finding himself getting distracted; his mind wandered often to the prospect of spending an entire month in a cottage with Crowley. The more he thought about it…. The more he fancied the idea. In fact, this could be rather fun.

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just a fluffy thing I decided to put at the beginning of the actual plot. Consider this an expositional prologue.  
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
